


runnin' like you did

by olaveya



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe - College/University, Anal Sex, Angst, Bad Decisions, Bottom Louis, Fluff, Hate to Love, M/M, Miscommunication, Oblivious Louis, Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-05
Updated: 2018-08-05
Packaged: 2019-06-22 04:10:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 20,061
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15573471
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/olaveya/pseuds/olaveya
Summary: “Should we tell him?”When Lauren is met with everyone either nodding their heads or shrugging, she takes a deep breath. “I mean, I think it’s pretty obvious by now.” She stalls, sounding ominous and Louis doesn’t like it one bit.“What is obvious by now?” Louis asks. He’s starting getting anxious. “I swear to God, spit it out. Stop being so damn cryptic.”“I—We think it’s pretty obvious that you’re in love with Harry,” she states simply and shrugs as if she isn’t telling him he’s in love with the second—Nick being the first—most annoying person on the planet.or, a college au where Louis knows how to hold a grudge and is definitely not in love with Harry Styles





	runnin' like you did

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! So this is my first ever fic and I honestly couldn't be any prouder?  
> Somewhere in the middle of writing this it went from shit to something I am actually proud of and it wouldn't happen without the help of my amazing beta, [Kelli](http://jimmytfallon.tumblr.com/). 
> 
> Also, this is for [Sia](http://trianglefreckle.tumblr.com/), who gave me this vague prompt ages ago for me to help me start writing. It was supposed to be way shorter and you definitely forgot about this, but look, I Did It.

Louis should really stop glaring.

He’s in class. He should be paying attention to the professor talking about the Great Depression instead of wishing his eyes could suddenly develop the power to shoot lasers and kill that curly fucker sitting a couple of rows ahead of him. Or even better, kill the boy’s companion, whose dark brown quiff that he’s sporting is, in Louis’ honest and totally subjective opinion, the worst excuse for a quiff he has ever seen.

Another opinion of Louis’ is that said pair is sitting decidedly way too close to each other to be called appropriate considering where they are now; which is a lecture hall with about one hundred other students present. Louis is sure no one wants to look at that. Really, there is no need for their arms to be constantly touching like that. One more second, and they’ll meld together into one person and that’s definitely the last thing Louis needs in his life—Harry Styles and Nick Grimshaw becoming one even more annoying, kale-juice-drinking, ridiculous-boots-wearing, candle-loving hipster. Having to tolerate just Styles alone is exhausting enough, but then Nick fucking Grimshaw had to come into the picture a couple of weeks ago and make everything that much worse for Louis.

Now that he thinks of it, Louis seriously needs to reevaluate his choice of friends if they intend to keep introducing more and more hipsters into the group. It had first started with Harry at the start of the spring semester when Niall met him at Louis’ party. Louis still doesn’t know how Styles ended up being there in the first place. Apparently, they hit it off during a drunken game of beer pong, so he decided to introduce him to the rest of his friends and spent the rest of the party doing just that. Liam and Ed got along with him just fine and Perrie fell in love with him the second he showed off those damn dimples.

Personally, Louis just simply doesn’t see what all the fuss is about. And sure, though it is hard for Louis to admit, sometimes Harry isn’t all that bad. He is always kind to everyone around him and has a great sense of humor that, if it wasn’t for the fact that Louis is set on despising him, would mesh wonderfully with Louis’ own. But there is also the fact that he is a fucking hipster—with his silky flowery blouses that he seems to never fully button up, tight jeans, and overall pretentious personality. Also his smirk that never seems to leave his face, especially while talking to Louis. It’s like Harry knows something he doesn’t and if there’s one thing Louis hates the most, it’s not being up to date with everything. He always seems annoyingly self-confident and forward. There is just something about him that rubs Louis the wrong way. So from nearly the moment he met Harry, he decided he wouldn’t give in that easily to Harry’s charm and promised to be as difficult as possible.

 It has nothing to do with holding grudges about trivialities.

 Not at all.

“Okay, that’s it for today everyone. Thank you for your attention.” The professor’s voice and the sound of scraping chairs startles Louis from his thoughts. “And please read chapter six for the next lecture. Or, you know, at least the summary.” He sounds resigned and Louis smirks to himself, knowing that despite his best intentions, he’ll end up going with the latter.

The smirk slips off his face when he notices Harry and Nick have already packed their things and are leaving the lecture room. They didn’t wait for him. What the fuck?

“Harry!” he shouts, quickly gathering his blank notebook in his arms and running after the pair. It’s not like it’s that important to him to catch up to them. It’s not like he cares. Or something. There’s an important question he has to ask.

Hearing Louis’ voice, Harry turns around and there it is. That fucking smirk makes its way onto his face.

“Louis,” he acknowledges once Louis stops in front of them, looking down at him. It’s unfair how tall he is. It seems like all the assholes get taller just from thinking they’re above everyone else.

“Sorry, we didn’t notice you back there.” Nick’s cocky voice makes Louis’ gaze move from Harry’s right dimple to meet Nick’s own.

“Nick, mate, always a pleasure.” Louis has to stop himself from rolling his eyes. Still, judging from Harry’s amused expression that he can see out of the corner of his eye, he must be failing at keeping his face completely straight. Without waiting for a response, since he simply does not care, Louis turns back to look at Harry and frowns. “Did you forget about the movie night at Liam’s? We’re already kinda late and the last time I checked, his flat is that way,” he says, gesturing to the other door behind him.

“Why, were you hoping we would go together?” Harry asks, and while Louis wishes he could punch that damn smirk off of his face, not even _he_ knows why he’s asking in the first place.

Louis huffs and folds his arms, looking like an annoyed child. “No, I was just simply hoping you forgot and that I wouldn’t have to endure your company tonight.”

Harry gives him a long look, as if he’s trying to decipher something, then lowers his gaze and smiles to himself, shaking his head. He has really long eyelashes, Louis notices. After a moment, Harry lifts his eyes and meets Louis’, the smirk back in its place. “Well, you just reminded me about it, didn’t you? And don’t worry, I didn’t forget. Me and Nick just wanted to leave our stuff at his before we go”.

“Oh, how domestic.” Louis smiles mockingly, ignoring the light twinge in in his chest, internally blaming it on the short run he had to make to get to them. “But I really don’t care. See you there, I guess.” With that, he turns on his heel and struts away, paying no attention to a pair of eyes burning into his back.

***

 _It's barely past eleven and the flat Louis shares with Lauren and Perrie is already a fucking mess. Not that he cares too much. The loud music is booming in Louis’ ears_ _—_ _some EDM song from the Top 40 that has everyone in the living room dancing or at least bouncing on their feet to the rhythm. The room smells like cheap beer and Louis can even catch a whiff of weed every once in awhile._

_Organizing a party to start off the semester and inviting all of his friends and acquaintances maybe wasn’t the smartest of Louis’ ideas. Especially when thinking about cleaning all of this mess tomorrow is already giving him an enormous headache. But seeing how everyone around him is having a great time, he can’t be too angry at his past self. Spending hours making sure everything would be perfect really paid off._

_It’s really been a fantastic night so far, everyone’s spirits still high since classes have only just started, people talking about their summer vacations and showing off their tans. It being his second year, Louis has been gossiping about the teachers he got this year and catching up with friends he made during the last semester, but was never close enough with to keep in touch with over the break. Mostly though, he’d missed his best friends and being able to see them anytime he wanted._

_It’s why he eventually ditches everybody else to talk to Lauren and Liam, standing by the glass doors that lead to the balcony when a drunk, handsy Niall falls into his side._

_“Guys!” he shouts, trying to stand straight without any help. “I just met my match in beer pong!” He turns around and that’s when Louis notices a tall guy standing behind the blond. Niall quickly grabs the giant’s hand and forces him to stand in their semi-circle. “This is Harry. He just crushed me at beer pong.”_

_The guy_ — _Harry_ — _smiles widely at them, but his eyes seem to linger at Louis for a tad longer._

  _"Hi, I’m Harry,” he says, his voice deep and words slow._

 _Louis wonders if that’s how he always talks or if it’s just the alcohol. It wouldn’t be fair for it to be his normal voice because coupled with his gorgeous, deep green eyes, and plump, rosy lips stretched into a smirk_ — _that’s just way too much power for one man to possess. Even his hair, brown and curling gently around his ears, looks like it belongs in a shampoo commercial. God, he’s way too pretty. And just_ so _Louis’ type that it’s unfair._

_“So we’ve heard,” he responds teasingly, but still reaches out to shake his hand. “I’m Louis.”_

_Harry’s hand is warm and fucking giant as it envelops Louis’ own and Louis is sure that Harry holds his hand for way too long for it to be socially acceptable. And what’s up with that intense stare he’s giving him? Jesus Christ. Louis_ — _and he would never admit this to anyone_ — _blushes before letting go of Harry’s hand and turning back to the rest of his friends as they both introduce themselves too, seemingly not having noticed anything weird about their interaction._

_“So you beat Niall, huh?” Liam asks, seeming like he’s actually interested._

_Harry’s smile grows even bigger and he shrugs. “Beginner’s luck.” He_ hiccups. _And no, it’s not endearing in the sightless._

_He’s also way too drunk for someone who just won a beer pong game. That’s the purpose of the game, right? To get the opponent drunker than you?_

_“You’ve never played beer pong?” Louis asks, eyebrows raised in disbelief._

_Harry looks down at him, eyes a little woozy. “Never had the opportunity to. I don’t normally go to parties like this.”_

_“Oh, yeah? And what kind of party is that?” Louis challenges him._

_“You know, a meaningless piss up that had no real thought put into it,” he says offhandedly, not noticing the tense silence that settles over them and the wide-eyed, shocked stares from Lauren and Liam._

**_Had no real thought put into it._ **

_What the fuck._

_Louis is fuming._

_Still, he chooses not to let this pretentious asshole know._

_“Oh, pardon me, sir. You will have to forgive me for not meeting your expectations and not organizing a dinner party where the guests can only speak in riddles and people drink craft beer out of fucking mason jars,” he spits._

_Harry’s eyes could not possibly go any wider when he realizes his mistake. “Fuck, I’m sorry_ _—_ _I didn’t know_ — _” He looks for Niall only to realize that the traitor has long left. “I didn’t mean it like that.”_

_“Sure thing, Snobby Pants. Now, excuse me, but I have to go be somewhere else now,” Louis cuts him off and storms away._

_If Harry tries to apologize to Louis countless times throughout the night, then so be it. Louis has been known to really hold a grudge._

***

Wednesday nights at Liam’s are the highlight of Louis’ week. It’s the group’s tradition to have movie marathons equipped with beer and delicious homemade snacks every two weeks. Louis, who is absolutely useless in the kitchen, is on non-alcoholic refreshments duty, so all he has to do is stop at a convenience store on his way to Liam’s flat and buy some soda. He absolutely loves this arrangement.

The drinks are a little heavy though, as he forgot to take his backpack this morning and the plastic bag digs into his palm uncomfortably, so he’s glad when he doesn’t have to wait very long to be buzzed up into the apartment complex. When he gets off the lift, he is greeted by Lauren already waiting for him with the door open. She immediately pulls him into a tight hug and as usual, messes up his hair with her hand.

“C’mon, we’re about to get started,” she says as she turns her back on him and heads for the living room. “And we already decided on the movies, so no complaining,” she pleads, stopping in the hallway and turning back to look at him. “Niall and Liam have been arguing over _Batman_ and _The Lord of the Rings_ for fifteen minutes straight. But at least now we know what we are going to watch next week so we won’t have to suffer through the same thing again.”

Louis smiles at her warmly and shrugs. It’s been the same routine ever since the first movie night, someone always has another idea for what to watch. He wouldn’t change it for the world.

“Sure, love. I don’t really care today. I had a long day and I’m starving.”

“There are some snacks in the living room, but I brought your leftover pasta from yesterday so you could heat it up. Thought you might fancy a decent meal.” She smiles warmly at him. “It’s on the counter.”

His eyes widen with delight. He’d been thinking about eating it the whole day at work and in his classes. “There is a reason you’re my favorite.“ He sends her a kiss and heads straight to the kitchen.

When he walks into the living room with a hot plate of pasta in his hands, the movie is still on standby, so he takes a second to say hi to everybody before he sits down on the floor by Lauren’s feet. The first ones always get the best seats—just his luck that he has late Friday classes this semester.

“So where’s Harry?” Niall’s question interrupts him just before he is able to take the first bite of his food.

Louis stills the fork in mid-air and rolls his eyes. “Apparently, it was crucial for him to leave his stuff at Nick’s before coming here,” he says gruffly. “Frankly, I think we should revoke his standing invitation to these movie nights if he’s going to be this disrespectful. And since when are we even inviting Nick? He’s an asshole.” He looks around the room for signs of approval.

Lauren sighs. “Okay, Grumpy, we get it—you’re jealous. But why is Nick an asshole again?” she asks, sounding bored. “We haven’t even known him for that long.”

He sets the fork down with a loud clunk. “He’s fucking pretentious, that’s why! He likes to talk to me as if I’m a child and is always rude to me when no one is around, but you guys never believe me. He also clings to Harry so much it’s embarrassing and—” he pauses. “Wait. Hold up. What do you mean I’m _jealous_?” He frowns and turns his head towards Lauren, eyes wide with disbelief. “Why in the world would I be jealous of Styles?”

She stares at him for a couple of seconds with raised eyebrows, then looks over to the rest of the group knowingly before asking, “Should we tell him?”

Louis looks around the room. “Tell me what?” he demands, confused.

When Lauren is met with everyone either nodding their heads or shrugging, she takes a deep breath. “I mean, I think it’s pretty obvious by now.” She stalls, sounding ominous and Louis doesn’t like it one bit.

“ _What_ is obvious by now?” Louis asks. He’s starting to get anxious. “I swear to God, spit it out. Stop being so damn cryptic.”

“I— _We_ think it’s pretty obvious that you’re in love with Harry,” she states simply and shrugs as if she isn’t telling him he’s in love with the second—Nick being the first—most annoying person on the planet.

“No, I’m not!” Louis shrieks. “Why would—Why is that—How can you just—“ he stutters, lost for words. He coughs to mask the feeling of his heart suddenly in his throat. “That’s absurd and you know it. I can barely stand the guy.”

“Louis. You blush the second he walks into the room,” says Liam sympathetically, but shyly, as if afraid of his reaction.

“You get prissy every time we go out and Harry isn’t there,” Perrie adds from the other side of the couch. “You’re probably not even aware of it, but it’s pretty obvious. Honestly, I thought you were together for the first couple of weeks after you introduced him to me. You kept wearing his hoodie. The one with his last name embroidered on the chest? What was I supposed to think?” she addresses the room, everyone nodding their head as if they know exactly what she means.

Before Louis can respond to both remarks, Niall’s cackle cuts in. “Last week, you sat on his lap for the whole duration of the movie.” He shakes his head, amused.

“That’s because he stole my seat when I went to the toilet!” Louis argues, indignantly. “I had to take it back to at least make a statement! Otherwise, he would think it’s okay for him to do that.” His voice gets quieter with every word as he starts doubting himself. It had made perfect sense at the time, but now that he hears himself say it all out loud, it does sound ridiculous. He huffs and frowns, looking at his lap so he can avoid everyone’s gaze for a moment. He resists the urge to fold his arms in order to avoid looking like a petulant child. This is absurd. Louis doesn’t know where this intervention is coming from, but it’s getting more and more ridiculous.

He feels a warm hand land gently on his shoulder. “You let him meet your mum and siblings when they came to see you last weekend,” Lauren says softly. “You never let anyone disturb your family time. If it wasn’t for the fact that you and I live together, I probably wouldn’t have even met them by now. ”

Louis’ frown deepens. He sees his family every once in awhile and he always treasures that time and never lets anyone or anything disturb that. But then last weekend, Harry had knocked on his door early in the morning claiming he was having a rough day and Louis, although he feigned annoyance, couldn’t bring himself to kick him out. So in the end, when his mum and siblings finally arrived, they all spent the day together. Now that he looks back on it, it does seem weird that he agreed to it in the first place. Louis can’t really find an excuse. It just kind of happened. That doesn’t mean he’s in love with Harry, though. Right?

His thoughts are interrupted by the doorbell ringing loudly throughout the flat. He raises his head with panic written all over his face and looks around. Everyone knows who is at the door and they all look at Louis with varying levels of sympathy upon seeing him so confused.

It’s Liam who finally stands up and moves to answer the door and let the latecomers in. From his spot on the floor, Louis can hear Harry and Nick trading greetings and Liam telling them to get their asses moving because they’re gonna start the movie whether they’re ready or not. When their footsteps start to get close, Louis quickly sits up straight and firmly sets his gaze on the TV.

“Hi, everyone! Sorry we’re late,” Harry says remorsefully with a hand behind his head.

“It’s fine. You’re lucky we got distracted and haven’t started yet,” Lauren tells him playfully. “Get seated so we can get started now, please”.

There’s a slight commotion as the two additional people try to find a seat, but Louis ignores it all, not moving a muscle. The loop of the _Batman_ intro music is starting to get on his nerves. Only when he feels something brush his left arm does he notice that Harry chose to sit on the floor right next to him and is now looking at him with a gentle smile. Were his eyes always so pretty?

“You good, there? I think you spaced out a little.”

Harry’s voice startles him out of his stupor once again. Louis’ eyes widen and he looks around the room with alarm only to find everyone already looking at them with poorly concealed interest. As soon as they realize they’ve been caught staring, they quickly move their eyes away, attempting to look innocent.

“Louis?” Harry sounds unsure.

Louis zeroes back on Harry. “Yeah,” he squeaks and quickly clears his throat, not even looking at the boy sitting next to him. “Yeah, I’m just peachy! Can we start the movie already, please?” He directs the question towards Liam, who is holding the remote, and reaches for his abandoned fork just to have something to do with his hands. He still can feel Harry’s inquiring eyes on the side of his face as he quickly starts eating even though the appetite he’d had not even a couple minutes ago is now completely gone.

All throughout the movie, Louis can’t stop his mind from racing. What doesn’t help is the constant warmth of Harry’s side right next to his. Every slight movement he makes, their arms touch, which leads to Louis growing tense. He’s sure Harry has noticed that he’s acting weird, especially of how quiet he’s become instead of making comments about the movie like he usually does.

Louis can’t help himself though. Can’t stop himself from thinking about what the others have said. Sure, he can admit that Harry is handsome, even breathtakingly so, but he finds many people beautiful and it doesn’t mean that he’s in love with any of them. He even sleeps with some of them when the opportunity arises, but love? He’s never had a real, actual, serious connection with someone. He can’t even remember the last time he went on a proper date, let alone dated someone that didn’t turn out to be a waste of his time.

He starts thinking about all the times they’ve hung out together. Just him and Harry. It’s never planned when they do. Sometimes they see the other at the library and decide to study together, spending the rest of the day in each other’s company, or they bump into each at the café, so they get coffee or something to eat together as if it’s the only rational thing to do. It isn’t often that they do stuff alone because Louis still insists that Harry is extremely annoying, but the guy always seems to find a way to get Louis to spend time with him. Now that he thinks about it, perhaps Louis had been so set on _disliking_ Harry that he hadn’t even noticed when he started to _actually_ like him. Maybe he never hated him in the first place.

Because yeah, Harry is pretentious, but he’s also a good guy. He’s probably the kindest person Louis has ever known, the sort of kind that makes people around him want to be better person. He knows his worth and always seems to be proud, but not in an arrogant way. Louis may think he is, but he also knows he’s just too stubborn to admit the truth to himself. What Louis has always admired about Harry is his love for his family and friends. Louis can listen to him talk about his mum and sister all day and it makes him think of his own family. Not only that, but he can listen to Harry talk about anything and never get bored—even when he takes way too long to tell a story because between his witty remarks and Louis’ teasing, talking to him is always so damn entertaining.

 _Crap, how have I not realized this before_ , Louis thinks to himself.

It’s not like Louis’ never noticed how gorgeous Harry is. Even while being set on disliking the guy, he was objectively able to admit that Harry is incredibly attractive. But thinking about him like _that_ , about having _feelings_ for him, is something he never thought would happen. Crap, he is definitely getting more and more worked up about this and having the boy he is currently panicking about sitting next to him isn’t helping. All of this means nothing.

Just as Louis is getting ready to start cursing every deity imaginable for bringing Harry Styles into his life, he is once again snapped back to reality when he feels Harry stretching his arms above his head. It seems like he’s suddenly hyper aware of everything the boy does, so when Harry drops his arm on the couch behind Louis’ shoulders like the smooth fucker that he is, Louis manages not to flinch. The thing is, normally, he would just pinch Harry’s side, grumble under his breath, and snuggle into his warmth like the cuddle-lover that he is. But today isn’t normal. Louis’ just had the biggest epiphany of the century that he might be in love with the guy he’s supposed to hate and said guy is currently trying to _cuddle_ with him.

Before Louis can even react, Nick leans down towards them from his spot on the armchair and says quietly, so as not to disturb the others from watching the movie, “Harry, your back must be killing you from sitting on the floor. Come on up here, we can fit together.” He taps the little space left next to himself.

 _Of course_ , Louis thinks bitterly. How could he forget about _Nick_? He is fairly new to the group and of course, it was Harry himself who introduced the prick to them. They met at some photography course last month and ever since, Nick has been glued to Harry’s side like a sad, lost puppy. And it’s honestly, terribly annoying and hard to watch sometimes. Louis fears one day he’s gonna pee on Harry’s carpet to mark his territory. Still, their relationship is still fresh though, and Harry and Louis have known each other for much longer, so there is no doubt in Louis’ mind that Harry would never pick Nick over him.

But just as he’s about to snuggle into Harry’s side and say something witty to make Nick fuck off, the body next to him starts moving.

“Sure,” Harry agrees quietly as not to disturb anyone and stands up. He quickly stretches again with a sigh and walks over to sit next to Nick, not even glancing in Louis’ direction.

And okay. This is fine. Who cares? Not Louis, that’s for sure. He does not care at all. He just turns back to his forgotten dinner, tries to focus on the movie, and not think about what just happened. His friends are idiots and have no idea what they’re talking about and secondly, there is nothing to stress about. The only reason he’s suddenly feeling unsettled is because he’s cold and Harry was a good source of warmth.

That’s all it is.

***

If there’s one thing Louis is good at, it’s not thinking about his problems or simply ignoring said problems and moving on as if they don’t exist. He has long achieved a true excellence at avoiding dealing with things that require any sort of emotional dilemma.

It’s why he’s here a week later, drinking his ass off with Niall at some seedy bar off campus on a Saturday night. It’s full of loud, elderly drunks, so they have to keep their voices slightly raised just to hear each other while they try to have a conversation, but hey, at least the beer is cheap and Louis is sure that Harry would never step foot in a place like this. Not enough obscure liquor choices and vintage furnishings and what not.

Not that he’s actively avoiding Harry. That would mean he actually _cares_ about what happened. It’s been a week since his friends mentioned his possible feelings for Harry and Louis has yet to take it all in. It’s not like he’s ever planning on doing so. Because there is nothing to think about. Things are good as they are right now. The whole concept is absolutely ridiculous to begin with, so Louis isn’t gonna bother himself with it. Besides, Niall is currently telling him about the paper he was assigned during today's lecture and somehow managing to make the story hilarious, so Louis considers himself to be effectively distracted for now.

“So how about you?” Niall asks when he’s finished with the story and the last of their laugher dies out. “How are you? After, you know,” he cuts himself off and clears his throat. “How have you been?” He’s trying really hard to be subtle. Louis will give him that, at least.

“I’ve been good. Same old, same old. Classes are still somewhat undemanding, so I’m making the most of it until the exams start and all,” he responds, pretending he didn’t get what Niall was trying to imply.

“Have you seen Harry since last Friday?” That would be it for being subtle, Louis guesses. “You didn’t come to the movie night yesterday and he was asking about you.”

Louis ignores the last part and tries not to think too hard about what it implies. “Why would I see him? It’s not like we’re close mates,” he says, attempting to sound bored. Niall looks at him skeptically. “What?!” Louis raises his voice, easily annoyed.

Niall sighs and keeps his unamused gaze on Louis. “Drop the act, Tommo. You’ve been avoiding him and you know it.”

“That’s not true!”

“Apparently, you saw him in the corridor between classes on Wednesday and ran away, pretending you didn’t see him. He told Liam, asking what the fuck was up with you.”

“Is all of you being invested in my “love life” so much of an established fixture in your routine at this point?” Louis asks, indignantly. “Last week, you all ganged up on me saying how I must have feelings for Harry because of some bullshit reasons, and now you talk about me behind my back with him!”

“Calm _down_ , Louis, no one told him anything about our conversation.” Niall raises his hands in a calm-down gesture. “He just asked us why you didn’t come.”

“Well, I went on a date,” Louis replies offhandedly, looking at his nails. He decides to omit the fact that the date was a disaster and that he ditched the guy after they finished the first course, claiming he felt poorly. Niall would just make it into something it wasn’t and Louis doesn’t want to hear it.

“I know, that’s what I told him.”

Louis looks up at him so fast, he almost gets dizzy. “Oh? And, um,” he stops himself and starts fiddling with his fingers under the table, feeling anxious all of a sudden.

Niall tries to hide his smirk behind his hand. “You want to know how he reacted, don’t you? Well, Lou, sorry to break it to you, but the easiest way to find out would be to get over yourself and talk to him. Maybe bang too, while you’re at it. Get rid of all the tension between you two.” He wiggles his eyebrows.

“Yes, Niall, thank you for your input. Although, next time, I would appreciate it if you could just fuck off. There is nothing for me to talk to Harry about and I definitely do not want to get anywhere near his dick. It’s probably wearing a monocle, with him being the biggest hipster on this planet right after Grimshaw,” he hisses and crosses his arms, looking away. Niall is being a prick right now.

“Okay,” Niall drags out the word and raises his eyebrows at Louis. “Whatever you say, Tommo. But just so you know, you’re the one who just mentioned your _love life_ in context with Harry, not me.” He smirks at him, slams his glass on the table and gets up to get another round of beer. Louis rolls his eyes, knowing well enough that Niall did that just for the theatrics of it, especially when he looks down at the table and can see both of their glasses only half empty.

***

Louis feels anxious walking into class on Friday. Last week, when he was in the middle of definitely-not-avoiding Harry, he came in late just to avoid any chance that he might want to talk to him. But that meant that not only was his favorite seat already taken, but he had to sit up front where he couldn’t pretend to pay attention while actually playing games on his phone or texting Lauren. That’s why today he decides to just give up and show up on time like he usually would. Maybe he will be lucky enough not to see him.

This whole situation is annoying and it’s all Louis’ friends’ fault. If it wasn’t for them trying to meddle where they shouldn’t have, Louis would be able to continue on with his life without stressing over how he acts around Harry. He did decide yesterday that he might have been slightly over exaggerating about his dislike towards him for too long. After all, his hatred for Harry had been based purely off a bad first impression and the unwillingness to admit that he’s actually a great person even though he is quirky and unbelievably hipster. Even though every person on this planet was always ready to tell him so ages ago.

But that’s all there is to it. No deeper feelings to look for here.

He’s just pulled out his notepad and a pen from his bag when he feels someone sit down to his right. He quickly glances at the intruder and almost drops his things when he sees Harry next to him, a warm smile on his face. Of fucking course.

“Hi, Lou,” he says, not breaking the eye contact. “How are you?”

Louis’ somehow doesn’t panic, the banter coming easily to him. Especially with Harry.

“Hello, Harold,” he responds with a matching smile. “I am just splendid this morning. Last class of the day _and_ of the week. Life couldn’t be more perfect.”

“Yeah?” Harry muses and starts getting his things out. He’s not smiling anymore. “You do sound very cheerful. That date last week ended as you hoped it would?” He seems to be really interested in the interior of his bag all of a sudden.

Louis bites his lip and considers how he should respond. He could just lie, make something up about how he had a fantastic night and be done with it. But then how would Harry react? Does he even care about Louis sleeping with other people? And why did he even ask the question in the first place? Would he be disappointed? In the end, Louis settles for the truth.

“Nah,” he waves his hand dismissively. “It ended before anything could happen.”

Harry looks at him then, undistinguishable look on his face. “Sorry about that.”

“No, it’s fine. He was boring and kinda rude if I’m being honest. Waste of my time,” he says. Then, in the spur of the moment, just to fuck with Harry and see his reaction, he props his chin on his hand and adds, “I do regret not getting to the good part though. Haven’t had a good dicking down in a while.”

Harry’s eyes fly open even wider and he blushes, biting his bottom lip. Louis’ gaze follows the movement, but he quickly looks up, pretending that it didn’t happen. It’s Harry who’s supposed to be affected here, not Louis. He smirks at Harry and waits for a reply.

 _Wouldn’t hate it if you volunteered for the job,_ he thinks.

But before Harry can form a proper sentence, another person sits next to him on the opposite side. Louis looks past Harry’s shoulder to see no other than the devil himself, Grimshaw. The devil is quick to distract Harry with some dumb story about how his favorite hipster café didn’t have the Australian goat milk to make his favorite coffee order with, so he had to settle for a _plain iced skinny hazelnut macchiato, sugar-free syrup, extra shot, light ice, no whip_ one. Louis almost throws up a little in his mouth. He rolls his eyes and focuses on the professor who’s just walked in and pretends he doesn’t see Harry glancing at him one last time from the corner of his eye.

***

Louis is nothing if not persistent.

He wasn’t lying when he told Harry that he needed a good fuck. It’s been way too long since he successfully pulled, but he’s determined tonight, and it’s finally going to happen.

He’s at a club near campus with Lauren and Perrie, already slightly drunk from the couple of beers they’d had back at their flat and a fruity drink he’d splurged on when they got in. He’s wearing clothes that never fail to get him laid and he’s feeling confident. His jeans hug him tight in all the right places and the black band t-shirt that’s slightly too big on him makes him feel both hot and cute at the same time. Overall, he’s feeling great tonight, the music is just what he likes to dance to, and he’s with two of his favorite people, ready to conquer the world. Or, you know, someone’s pants. Small victories.

After dancing for a while with the girls, they all decide to head back to find a table and get more drinks. The place is packed with people, but they manage to locate a free booth in the corner and while Perrie sits down to save their spot busying herself with her phone, Louis takes Lauren to buy them all drinks. They somehow manage to squeeze between sweaty bodies to the bar and wait for one of the bartenders to tend to them. In the meantime, he starts looking around in search for a potential suitor for the night.

“Anyone caught your attention?” asks Lauren, looking around as well. Bless his friends for being supportive of his frivolous dating.

“Not yet, but the night is still young,” he smiles. “Don’t want to ditch you both too early.”

“Oh, how thoughtful of you Louis!” she says jokingly, clutching her heart in a faux gesture of awe. He slaps her arm playfully and laughs along with her. “But I’m surprised. At this point, you would’ve found someone by now. You’d be grinding up on him as we speak. Or you’d be on your way to their place already.”

Louis’ jaw goes slack as he pretends to be offended. “How dare you, this is slander!” he squeaks with mirth in his eyes. “I am not that easy!”

“Maybe _lately_ you haven’t been. But during our first year, I was concerned about your bum getting so much action on a regular basis.” She raises her voice as he starts to protest, successfully talking over him. “You would think that it would get—” he finally cuts her off by slapping his hand to her mouth. Of course, she doesn’t hesitate to lick his hand, and she laughs as Louis screeches and tries to wipe his hand on her dress. She fights him off with ease and he has no choice but to use his own jeans.

“You’re a dick, Lauren,” he says, grinning at her.

“Aww, I’m sorry, bubba,” she drags out with warmth in her tone and puts her arm around his shoulders as she tries to get the bartender's attention. “Let’s get drunk and find you a nice, respectable man to grind on, okay?” She winks at him and turns back when the woman behind the bar comes up to them.

Louis smiles at the side of Lauren’s face, once again reminded just how much he adores his friends. He presses a quick peck to her cheek just to remind her.

***

An hour later, Louis is hopeless. He’s already danced with a couple of guys, but none of them had been what he’s looking for. All of them had something about them that Louis found to be either annoying or unattractive, which made him ditch them and look for another. They were either too blond, too tall, not tall enough, dressed the wrong way, or had too short hair. Lauren and Perrie had long stopped trying to help him with his mission after he rejected all of their candidates. The three of them are in their booth, the girls laughing about something with each other, Louis sulking in the back.

After a random guy approaches their booth and asks Louis if he wants to dance and Louis almost starts screaming that he’s not interested in spray tans, he decides that he’s had enough and tells the girls he’s going home. Perrie makes sure he doesn’t want them to go with him, but he assures them both that it’s okay, that he doesn’t want to cut their night short.

The girls hug him and pat his back reassuringly, and Louis makes them promise to get a cab when they eventually decide to leave, then he’s on his way back home. He doesn’t know what’s wrong with him. Finding a willing guy has never been a problem for him. And it wasn’t even that that he had issues with. God knows there were plenty of men in that club that were ready to take Louis home. It was _him_ who had such high expectations all of a sudden.

The cold woosh of October air is a blessing on his flushed face when he finally steps out of the club. He breathes in deeply before starting his way home, deep in thought.

He’s halfway there when, in his drunken mind, it hits him. None of the guys were right because they weren’t Harry. He groans out loud and doesn’t even care about the looks he gets from the people gathered in front of a food truck he passes by. Ever since everyone told him about his _feelings_ , the seed of thought has been planted, and he can’t pretend to ignore it anymore. He’s curious. Now, he’s _horny_ and curious. The thought of finally getting laid and getting Harry out of his system is too tempting to let go of right now, and the alcohol in his system doesn’t help his personal judgement at all.

He’s sending Harry a text before he even makes it onto his street.

_can you com eover?????????_

He gets the reply almost immediately.

**What’s going on? Is everything okay?**

He’s about to reply to calm Harry down when he stumbles on the curb and almost lands on his face. He decides it’s better to hold off replying until he’s safe at home, so he pockets his phone for now and continues his walk back to the flat. He ignores the buzzes alerting him of new messages coming in. He really treasures his face and doesn’t want to unnecessarily put it in harm’s way anymore.

By the time he closes the door of the flat behind him, he has long forgotten about the unanswered texts. He kicks off his shoes and goes straight to the bathroom. He has approximately ten to fifteen minutes before Harry gets here and he should get the sweat off of himself. If it was any other drunken person that Louis had picked up at the club, he probably wouldn't care about the state of his personal hygiene, but it’s Harry, and for some reason, he wants to make an effort.

He showers quickly and brushes his teeth while contemplating what to wear—or if he should even wear anything at all. He plans on getting them both naked pretty soon. For now, he decides to put on his joggers and is in the middle of tying them on his hips when the doorbell rings, followed by incessant knocking on the door. He spins around and walks the short distance between his room to the front door and opens it, revealing a very disheveled Harry.

“Louis!” He’s heaving for some reason. It’s giving Louis all kinds of dirty images. “Are you okay? You texted me to come and didn’t respond to my later texts. What happened?”

“Did you run here?” Louis is dumbfounded. He shouldn’t look so hot all sweaty, dressed in joggers and a hoodie that looks to have been thrown on in a hurry.

Harry looks behind Louis’ form as if searching for any signs of immediate danger. “I did. You scared me,” he explains, and when it’s clear to him that Louis’ life isn’t in jeopardy, he looks down at him. “What the fuck, Louis? Why did you text me?”

“I—” He freezes. The idea of hooking up with Harry seemed great in his mind. Now, with the man in front of him, he’s not sure where to begin. Harry’s expectant look turns his gears into action. “Do you want something to drink?” he tries and moves to let him inside.

Harry sighs and walks into the apartment. “I could use some water after running over here,” he says, looking at Louis pointedly. Louis squeaks and turns on his heels and moves quickly into the kitchen to grab him a glass of water. While he’s there, he gulps down some water himself. He doesn’t know why he’s so nervous all of a sudden.

When he comes back out, he sees Harry on the living room couch, so he heads over to him and hands him the glass. The boy thanks him quietly, drinks half of it in one go, sets it down on the coffee table, and gestures for Louis to sit down next to him. “Now, can you explain why you texted me at two in the morning telling me to come over?” he asks, softer this time. His gaze moves over Louis’ half-naked frame before settling back on his face.

Louis hesitates before sitting down on his left. He’s not sure what to do with his hands, so he keeps them in his lap, fiddling with his thumbs. What should he say? He can’t just tell Harry the whole truth because even Louis can admit that his intentions aren’t one hundred percent fair. He can’t even begin to imagine how awkward it would be trying to explain to Harry what his plans were, so he does what he’s good at. With his heart racing in his chest, he just goes for it.

He slowly leans in and softly brushes his lips against Harry’s. The reaction is instantaneous. Harry lets out a quiet moan in the back of his throat and closes the remaining distance between them and kisses him back, easily taking over. Louis can feel Harry’s right hand going for his hip while the other lifts up to cup his face gently. The shorter boy lets out a surprised, but pleased whimper, and Harry takes the chance to slip his tongue into his mouth, deepening the kiss.

When he feels Harry pulling him in harder by the firm grip he has on his hip, Louis doesn’t even think before throwing his leg over his thighs and lifting himself onto Harry’s lap, moving his hands to his neck, one coming up higher to play with his hair. Harry lets out a appreciative hum and slips his hand lower to grab at his bum. Louis gasps and grinds into the lap under him, pulling on Harry’s hair a little. This is undoubtedly better than anything Louis could have ever imagined.

Suddenly, Harry breaks the kiss and moves his head away from Louis as he whines and tries to chase the feeling of Harry’s mouth on his. “Wait,” he puts his hand on Louis’ chest. “Have you been drinking?” he asks with a frown on his face.

For a moment, Louis is too distracted by the way Harry looks—hair in disarray, blush on his cheeks, and those alluring pink lips wet with salvia—to even register that he asked him a question. He’s about to lean in and start mouthing at Harry’s jaw that suddenly looks good enough to eat, but he’s once again stopped by a hand on his chest, Harry’s brows now furrowed.

“What?” he asks absentmindedly, then he remember the question. “Oh, yeah, me and the girls went out. ‘m not too drunk, though,” he mutters and tries again to catch Harry’s lips, this time successful. When Harry kisses him back, he’s so heart-wrenchingly gentle that it makes Louis’ chest ache and heart stutter.

He reaches up, buries his hands back into Harry’s hair, and tugs as he feels Harry’s hands return to grab firmly at his bum. They both break into a moan that cuts off quickly as they return hungrily back to their lips. Louis can’t believe he’s been waiting so long to do that. Harry’s kisses are so wonderful, his mouth hot and lush and so fucking intoxicating that Louis thinks that nothing could ever top this. He will never be able to enjoy a kiss that isn’t with Harry. He relishes in every sweep of Harry’s sweet tongue on his own and just takes it, lets Harry take over completely, head spinning and heart pounding.

Just as Louis is ready to drop out of college and devote the rest of his life to kissing Harry on this very couch, Harry breaks their mouths apart once again. Louis won’t have it though, so after a quick break to catch his breath while he stares at the beautiful sight in front of him, he leans back in and attacks his jaw.

Harry moans. “Didn’t they come back home with you? Shouldn’t we be quiet?”

Is he honestly trying to have a conversation with Louis all hot and bothered in his lap, ready for the taking? That simply won’t do. He slips his hand between their bodies to grab at Harry’s crotch and smirks to himself when he hears the boy under him let out another moan. He’s hard underneath him. And, oh God, _big_. He quickly forgets about his small victory when he feels warm hands slip under the material of his joggers and he’s the one to whine embarrassingly this time. He hadn’t bothered to put on pants when he was getting dressed and it’s _so_ worth it now. The feel of Harry’s rough hands gripping firmly at the flesh of his bare bum has him dizzy, makes him burn up even more.

He then remembers that we was asked a question, so without really thinking, still focused on sucking on Harry’s neck, he mutters, “Nah, I left early after I couldn’t pull.”

Okay, so maybe he really shouldn’t have said that, he realises a second later. He really, really shouldn’t have said that.

It’s already too late, he realises, when he feels Harry freeze under him.

“What?” he asks, his voice small.

_Fuck._

Harry doesn’t wait for him to answer, jumping into conclusions. “Oh my god.” He pulls away and looks at Louis incredulously. “Is that what this is? Did you text me at two in the morning to get laid because you couldn't get it anywhere else?” He sounds pissed off now, like he can’t believe that Louis would actually stoop so low. That he could do this to him. Louis can see a hint of hurt in his green eyes and it sobers him up immediately.

He looks away, ashamed. It’s not like Louis can blame him for getting angry or for thinking Louis was about to use him. Because that’s exactly what happened. What was he thinking? It’s not like him to use people like that. God, he’s an awful human being.

Still, he didn’t think that Harry would react this way. Maybe his reasons weren’t entirely pure or whatever, and he definitely didn’t intend for Harry to know them but then, a fuck is a fuck, right? There is no reason for feelings to be involved here. He should have been upfront about it from the beginning.

His silence must be enough of an answer for Harry, as the next second, he’s shoving Louis away from his lap so he lands on the spot next to him on the sofa and stands up. “You know what, Louis? Fuck you,” he says without even meeting his eyes. “Didn’t think I—That this—” He stops himself, stays still for a second, looking as if he’s about to say something else, but then marches towards the door.

Louis is still slightly dizzy from the sudden movement when he hears the door slam shut behind Harry. He flinches at the loud noise and buries his face in both hands, resting his elbows on his knees.

Yeah, he fucked up.

***

For the next couple days, Louis pretends like nothing is wrong. He never sees Harry and this time, it’s obvious that it’s the other boy going out of his way to avoid Louis—not the other way around like it was before.

He sees him for the first time during their shared lecture on Friday, but Harry sits with Nick in front of the class and doesn’t even look his way when they enter the room. Louis acts as if it doesn't bother him and ignores the pang of guilt that hits him. Later, when he’s at Liam’s flat and Niall asks where Harry is, he responds with a silent shrug and keeps his eyes on the telly. He’s never been more appreciative of his friends when they don’t try to pry and ask him questions he doesn’t have the answers to.

He tells himself that not having Harry in his life anymore doesn’t change it much. That it doesn’t hurt to see him in the halls and be ignored by him when usually, Harry would see him, light up like a sun that he is, and approach him or at least wave if he didn’t have time to stop. That he’s not bitter about Harry having found new, cooler people with pretentious coffee orders to hang out with, like his social media has been showing Louis these days. He does not miss Harry at all and it seems that Harry doesn’t miss him either.

He does try sending Harry a text a couple of times throughout the week, but in the end, always wimps out at the last minute, deletes what he had written and goes back to acting like everything is fine. Harry has clearly moved on without a problem and so should Louis. It’s just that deep down, in that ugly, self-centered part of him, it’s not easy to take in how fast it took for Harry to stop caring about him.

He decides he needs a break, can’t wait for the winter holidays so he can spend the whole week at home with his family. Away from this hell of a situation and guilt that won’t ever completely go away. Mostly though, he misses his mum’s warm hugs and their long conversations with never-ending cups of tea between them.

Thinking of home reminds him he was supposed to answer Lottie’s private message she sent him on Instagram earlier now that he’s finally back from today’s lectures. He settles on his bed comfortably and opens the app to see that she forwarded him a post of a designer bag along with a bunch of praying hands emojis. He rolls his eyes fondly and sends her a middle finger emoji back followed by a thumbs up one. At least he knows what he’s getting her for Christmas this year.

He backs out of the message to mindlessly scroll through her feed to catch up on what she’s been up to lately. He has time before he has to start on his reading for next week’s class. He spaces out for a second and suddenly he’s scrolled way too far and is about to return to his main feed when a photo catches his eye. He clicks on it and his heart stutters.

It’s a photo he recognizes from many weeks ago when the whole family came to visit Louis at the beginning of the term. There, standing in front of Louis’ building, all smiling and embracing each other are his mother, sisters, Louis and _Harry_. He has his arms around Louis and Fizzy, his green eyes shining with mirth and lips stretched in a big smile. He looks like he’s close to laughter and Louis recalls saying something funny just before the photo was taken.

He can’t stop staring at the picture before him. How well Harry just… fits in there. Louis remembers how fast everyone fell under Harry’s spell, how easy it was for them to fall in love with him. They all had gone to the park after they had taken the photo to let the younglings have some fun at the playground. His mother had raved to Louis about how charming and sweet Harry was as they both watched him entertain Doris and Ernest in the sandpit, squealing with joy at the silly voices he made. Later, when they were about to go to a restaurant for dinner, Harry suggested he could go home since he didn’t want to impose on them, but Louis was the first to assure him that it was fine, that they would love for him to join them. He didn’t want the day to end. Didn’t want Harry to leave.

 Ever.

  _God, he loves Harry._

It takes his brain a few moments to really catch up to his thoughts, but when it does, he realizes with a jolt what he just thought, momentarily losing the ability to breathe. Holy shit. He loves Harry. He’s undeniably, irrevocably in love with Harry.

Finally admitting to his feelings is amazing, almost freeing. It’s like all of the pressure that’s been sitting on his chest for the last couple of days, weeks even, suddenly lifts and he can breathe properly for the first time in forever. This abrupt burst of emotions makes him sit up in his bed. He feels restless all of a sudden, excited, the urgent need to tell this to anyone willing to listen almost unbearable.

Then the feeling of absolute dread hits him when he remembers what he did and most of all, remembers Harry’s face after he realized Louis’ motives, the image still engraved deep in his mind. Shame follows soon after and he inhales deeply, hoping the air fillings his lungs might help the anxiety that starts creeping in.

He buries his head in his hands as he thinks of how badly he fucked up. How he ruined everything before he even realized what could have been. Before the _incident_ , he might have considered Harry reciprocating what he was feeling, but seeing how easily he got over it makes Louis afraid that there were never any deeper feelings on Harry’s side to begin with.

Still, whether or not he might have a chance at redeeming himself and maybe starting all over, Harry deserves an apology. A real, heartfelt apology and nothing lesser than that. He should’ve gone to him ages ago, but he’s been too stubborn to admit to himself that he misses him. And, oh god, he misses Harry so much.

He grabs his phone from the floor, where it must have fallen while he was freaking out, and checks the time. It’s still fairly early, but he knows that Harry is done with his classes for today and is probably at his flat. He considers texting Harry first before going over there, but in the end decides he wants to say everything in person and figures he will make the best impression if he surprises him, so he pockets his phone, grabs his keys, and leaves the apartment.

He’s almost running with how anxious—but excited—he is at the thought of seeing Harry again, his newfound feelings giving him the push he needs to keep the steady pace. He tries to think about what he’s going to say to him, how he’s going to apologize and explain himself. He knows he can’t just tell him he loves him yet, not after hurting him like he did. He will be lucky if Harry decides to give their friendship another chance. And maybe, if he’s fortunate enough, it may turn out that his feelings are mutual. Even then, just being close to Harry again would be more than enough for Louis.

His courage lasts up until he turns the corner and Harry’s building comes into his view. Doubt starts clouding his mind, but he keeps marching on with slower steps. He’s about to ring the doorbell when the front doors of the complex open up and someone steps out. He greets the person with a smile, acting like it’s absolutely okay for him to be there, holds the door so it doesn’t shut, then slips inside. Everything seems to be working in his favour so far.

He scales the stairs up to the third floor and waits a moment to catch his breath and collect himself. _You can do this_ , he tells himself as he knocks on Harry’s door. He can feel his heart pounding while he waits for it to open, the apology already on the tip of his tongue. Then he hears the sound of the lock being turned and he holds his breath.

It’s not Harry who opens the door.

It’s Nick.

Out of all the possible scenarios he’s thought of, none of them included Nick being present.

The air escapes Louis’ lungs in a second, unsure of what to say. Nick beats him to it as he lifts one exasperated eyebrow and quietly inquires, “What are you doing here, Louis?”

“I—I’m.” Louis is at loss for words. He really didn't take into account that Nick might be here when he arrived. This complicates things a lot. “I need to talk to Harry.”

“That’s a little obvious, isn’t it?” Nick answers, voice condescending. He briefly glances behind himself, then leans into Louis and lowers his voice. “Look, it’s too late, okay?” Louis frowns as Nick continues, “You had your chance and you fucked up. You really hurt him, you know.”

“I know that!” he raises his voice and tries to look past Nick’s shoulder into the apartment. Tries to ignore the fact that Harry might’ve told Nick what happened between them. “Just, can I come in? This is important.”

“ _Important_ important or “I need a fuck” important?”

Louis flinches back. Okay, so Harry didn’t spare any details, he guesses. He probably deserves that. He definitely does. He clears his throat. “I’m not having this conversation with you, Grimshaw. Now, can you please go tell Harry I came to see him?”

Nick rolls his eyes. “He doesn’t want to see you, Louis. He’s waited long enough for you to get your shit together and now it’s too late.” His face turns into an ugly smile. “Don’t worry though, I’m doing a _great_ job at cheering him up,” he says, and the implication is clear to Louis.

He shakes his head frantically, not believing Nick for one second. He’s just trying to get under his skin and Louis won’t let this dickhead agitate him like that. Then again, maybe it’s true. Maybe Harry’s type is a tall hipster guy with shared obscure interests, not a tiny, loudmouthed Louis.

It’s then that he hears Harry’s voice from the inside of the flat.

“Nick, are you coming or what?” he shouts. “I’m freezing over here!”

“I’ll be right there, babe!” Nick calls back to him, but doesn’t take his eyes off the boy in front of him. Louis’ eyes fly wide open and Nick lifts his eyebrows pointedly, as if what he just overheard only confirms his words.

Oh God, this can’t be happening. He backs away from the doorframe, frigid body not cooperating with him, almost making him trip. He grabs at a railing behind him to steady himself and then he does the thing he does best when confronted with overwhelming emotional distress—he runs away.

He stops when he’s outside the building, heart is in his throat and a heavy feeling deep in his gut. He feels like he could puke at any moment, so he takes a couple of deep breaths, leaning his hands on his knees. The only picture he sees when he closes his eyes is an image of Harry laying in bed, naked, and waiting for Nick to come and warm him up. He stops himself before his imagination goes too far and leaves him with something he might not be able to stomach.

There it is. He’s been too stubborn and blind and now it’s too late. There is nothing he can do anymore, not really. And he has noone to blame but himself.

 ***

After getting home from Harry’s apartment, he spends hours curled up in bed feeling sorry for himself before finally deciding to send Harry a text. Since he couldn’t do it in person, he figures that Harry still deserves an apology. Even one as crappy as in the form of a text. He rewrites it countless times, having trouble finding the proper words, but eventually settles for a short, simple message.

_sorry for what happened and taking so long to apologize._

He never gets a reply.

Not that he expected one anyway.

***

Louis loves his friends. He would put his life on the line for all of them at any time, but they’ve truly been testing his patience. All he’s wanted to do for the past month is mope around and lay in his bed where there’s been no risk of running into Harry, as it’s been happening to him enough lately. Thankfully, he has yet have to see him with Nick. Knowing they are sleeping together or even worse, _dating,_ is painful enough without having to see them interact.

The thing is, Louis never thought of himself as the pining type, always the one to be upfront with what and _who_ he wanted, never really putting his heart on the line, but here he is. Moping after a boy he was stupid enough to lose before having the chance to have him in the first place. He’s hoping that with time, the heart wrenching feeling he gets when catching a glimpse of Harry will lessen, but for now it seems to just be getting worse.

As for his friends, they won’t leave him alone. They’ve been pestering him about finally going out for the last week, claiming it would do him good to get out. Lauren, who gave him some space after finding out what happened, is the last one to approach him about it.

She sits down next to him on the couch where he’s been laying curled up in a blanket for the past couple of hours ever since he migrated here from his bedroom. Something about wallowing in plain sight, where his roommates can see him and sympathize making him feel better. He loves attention, especially while feeling off. He’s not sure he’s ready for whatever Lauren is planning now, though.

Lauren puts his feet on her lap and starts massaging them gently through the blanket. “This is getting ridiculous, you know that, yeah?” she says.

He responds with a shrug from under the blankets.

“Louis, you liked the guy for what, one hour and suddenly you’re going through the biggest heartbreak of the century? Don’t die on me like Catherine in _Wuthering Heights_ ,” she pleads jokingly.

He lifts his head, falsely offended. “You damn well know that it was more than an hour. I was just dumb,” he huffs before laying back down on the pillowy side rest of the sofa. He knows he’s being ridiculous, but he can’t admit that to Lauren.

“That, you were.”

“What do you want?” he asks, wanting to go back to his wallowing in peace.

“Everyone is coming over in an hour and we’re taking you out. By using force if necessary,” she adds quicky before he can protest. “Just a pub on campus, nothing fancy.”

Louis really fucking loves his friends. They are way too good for him.

“You should just give up on me. I don’t deserve friends. I don’t deserve love. I’m a terrible person,” Louis mumbles into the pillow. He feels Lauren shake as she huffs out a small laugh.

“You are not, love. Just really, _really_ silly.”

“I really fucked up.”

“Well, maybe. But Harry isn’t one to hold grudges. He’ll be over it soon and you two will be on your merry way to becoming boyfriends once again.” She’s being way too optimistic and they both know it. It’s never that easy. Especially since Harry never felt anything for him to begin with. Lauren doesn’t notice Louis’ grimace. “How about it? You let us take you to the pub and we can all help you plot how to make Harry see that you’re the only one for him?” she proposes.

“He can’t even look at me and you want me to woo him?” he asks, incredulous. “Besides, you forgot the most important part. He’s _dating someone else_ ,” he adds and buries deeper into the sofa. The reminder makes a heavy feeling settle deep in his gut. There goes the attempt at not thinking about him.

Lauren sighs and rubs his legs comfortingly through the blanket. “Either way, you do need to get out of here before you melt into the couch. C’mon,” she eggs him on and lifts his feet before standing up and stretches out her hand for him to grab it.

Louis looks at it hesitantly for a moment, wondering if he should just give up and let his friends help him with his funk or do as Lauren said and melt into the sofa forever. And although the latter seems like a decent enough way to go, spending time drinking and keeping his mind off his heartbreak undoubtedly sounds way more appealing.

He sighs. “Okay, but no mentioning Harry,” he demands before grabbing her hand and letting her pull him up from the couch.

“Sure thing,” she easily agrees and smiles brightly at Louis, seemingly happy that she managed to get him to agree. Then suddenly she scrunches her nose and backs away. “But first, you need to shower.”

***

Finding an uncrowded pub on campus on a Saturday evening is near impossible, so they settle on cramming themselves into the first one that has a free booth. There, surrounded by his dearest friends, he instantly feels better. And while no one mentions Harry, it’s clear to Louis that he’s getting special treatment from his friends. Liam keeps sending him encouraging, soft smiles from across the table, Perrie and Lauren keep putting their arms around him from where they’re sitting on either side of him, and Niall acts like he’s the funniest person alive when he laughs at every little thing he says. It’s all worth it when they keep buying him drinks even though he tried protesting the first few times.

They’ve been drinking and chatting for what feels like hours now and Louis is well on his way to being very drunk. Who is he kidding, he _is_ very drunk. He fucking loves tequila, the saviour of broken hearts. He knows he’s going to regret all of these shots tomorrow, but on the upside, he hasn’t thought about Harry since they got here and he couldn't be more grateful for his friends and their amazing idea to bring him. He should definitely listen to them more often.

He’s listening to Liam tell a story about his last girlfriend and goes to take another sip of his beer when he notices that there’s none left. He pouts at his empty glass, not caring how ridiculous he must look, and rises from his seat for the first time in a couple of hours. When he has everyone’s attention, he announces, “I’m buying the next round of shots for everybody. No excuses!”

He then squeezes past Perrie’s legs and stumbles foward a little, only now feeling the full effect of all the alcohol he’s consumed. He shakes it off and turns back to his friends and gives them a thumbs up to show that he’s good. At that, Niall lets out his usual, boisterous laugh and Liam rolls his eyes. Just because he’s a little brat, he sticks out his tongue at Liam and carries on towards the bar.

Once there, Louis hops up on the bar stool. While he waits for the bartender to make his shots, he swivels on the chair, looking around. It’s then that he notices a familiar tall figure on the opposite of the room. He immediately stops the movement of the stool with his feet to get a better look. The person is leaning on their side against the wall and is talking to another figure Louis’ never seen before. He squints his eyes and it takes him a second to recognize the first person as Nick. His heart stops and his eyes widen instantly.

_Could this mean that Harry is also in here somewhere?_

Starting to panic, he frantically looks around the room, trying to see if he can spot the curly headed boy. When he doesn’t see him after the first hurried survey of the space around him, he turns his head to look at Nick again, assuming that if anything, Harry would be close to him. When he sees what the prick is doing though, he almost falls off his stool.

Nick is still where he had been only seconds ago, but this time, he’s in the middle of sucking somebody’s face off. A somebody’s face that definitely does _not_ belong to Harry.

Louis stares at the scene in front of him for a moment, eyes as wide as saucers, trying to figure out what to think of the situation. Since the initial reaction of absolute shock passed a couple of seconds ago, all he’s left with are a bunch of confusing and contradicting feelings battling each other. Mostly though, it’s anger. He’s furious at Nick for doing this to Harry while he’s probably at home, oblivious to his boyfriend getting it on with someone else. For being a fucking asshole and cheating on someone as incredible as Harry.

He tries to ignore the inkling of hope that’s settled somewhere deep inside him. It’s not the best time.

Louis has half a mind to go up to Nick right this moment and punch him straight in the face, but just barely manages to stop himself. Instead, he does something much, much worse, but what seems like a wonderful idea to his inebriated brain. He swivels around, downs two of the shots the bartender just put down for him, and ignoring everything else, leaves the pub, setting off for Harry’s flat. Because he needs to let Harry know.

When he steps outside and feels how cold it is, he immediately wishes he had brought a jacket or at least a warmer sweater before leaving for the night. He shivers and puts his arms around himself to keep warm while he looks around. Despite his drunken state, he easily figures out the quickest route and is pleasantly surprised when he realizes that Harry’s place is not too far from where he is. If he had known this before going into the pub, he would have protested and made his friends choose another place, but now he couldn't be more grateful. Louis remembers then that he left his friends at the pub without any notice, so he sends a quick text to Niall that he’s gone home. By the time he receives a sad face alongside the thumbs up emoji in return, he’s standing in front of Harry’s complex.

Looking up at the window he knows belongs to Harry, a heavy feeling passes through him as he remembers the last time he was here. It almost stops him from ringing the bell, but the liquid courage and an another gust of wind that sends a shiver down his spine makes him press the buzzer.

As he stands there waiting, he briefly panics. Crap, what time is it? Hopefully Harry’s not asleep yet. Or maybe he’s not even home right now. Louis’ not sure whether that would be a good thing or not. He really shouldn’t have drank so much.

Before he can turn around and walk away, he’s stopped by Harry answering the buzzer.

“Hello?” he asks, voice a little distorted by the intercom.

Louis hesitates for a moment. “Hi,” he clears his throat. “It’s Louis. Can I come in?” he asks unsurely and sniffs, the cold weather already affecting him.

There’s silence on the other end for a couple of seconds. Louis closes his eyes, waiting. He feels his knees tremble a little. Then suddenly, he hears the sound of Harry buzzing him in. Louis lets out a breath that he didn’t even know he was holding, pushes the door, and enters the building. He doesn’t remember the walk up to the third floor, but suddenly he’s in front of Harry’s door, ready to knock. He gives himself a small pep talk in his head, but before he can let Harry know he’s here, the door opens revealing the boy behind them.

On his way over, Louis thoroughly prepared himself on what to say. Had played the situation out in his head multiple times and had everything planned to the T. Now, actually standing in front of Harry looking so damn _soft_ and _pretty_ in his blue pajama bottoms and soft green tee, Louis is lost for words. He’s so fucking beautiful and Louis just keeps staring at Harry with his lips slightly parted, taking in the view. He hasn’t seen him properly in a while so he just now notices that his hair has grown, the curls now reaching down to his neck, making it near impossible for Louis not to want to play with them. His green eyes fucking sparkle in the light from the corridor. And _fuck_ those lips. Those plump, pink lips that he’d _kissed_.

Louis wants to cry.

They must stand there for at least a couple of seconds before Louis finally gets a hold of himself and utters the first thing that comes to his mind, wanting to fill the silence, slurring out the words, “Did you know that Liam’s ex thought his kidney actually regrew itself?”

And okay, he might have also underestimated how drunk he actually is.

Harry frowns and sighs, “What are you doing here, Louis?” He folds his arms and leans in for a second before flinching backwards, nose wrinkled. “You stink of tequila,” he huffs. Louis can hear the disappointment in his voice.

Harry just doesn’t understand the importance of the situation. Just because Louis had some drinks doesn’t mean that what he has to say doesn’t matter. Harry deserves to know that his boyfriend is a cheating dickbag. And Louis is only here to tell him that. Because he’s a good person who cares about him.

“Your boyfriend’s cheating on you,” he mumbles.

Harry’s eyebrows shoot up. He’s silent for a couple of seconds and keeps staring at Louis as if he’s crazy, waiting for a punchline. And Louis knows he must look like a proper mess, cheeks flushed and hair messed up from the wind and the night of drinking, eyes big.

“What are you on about?” he deadpans.

 It’s like a dam breaks somewhere inside Louis and he starts spitting the words out, gesticulating wildly. “Saw it! With my own eyes! Making out with someone else. What an asshole, right? You should leave his sorry ass.” He breathes in deeply.

Harry just shakes his head at him. “How much did you drink? God,” he wonders and looks like he’s about to say something else, but is reasoning with himself if he should. He does that a lot, Louis realizes. Harry actually thinks before he speaks. Louis could learn a thing or two from him. In the end, Harry looks down and says, “And why does it seem like lately, you’re only coming to me when you’re drunk?” He looks back at Louis, expression unreadable.

Louis’ face falls, wilts like a flower. Shit, Harry’s absolutely right. Louis is a horrible person. He lowers his head and starts playing with his fingers that are now half covered by his thin sweater. He feels very dizzy all of a sudden. On his way over, the cold was keeping him somewhat sober, but now that he’s inside, the effect has diminished and his thoughts are all over the place. Or, what is more likely, it’s probably the fault of those last two shots he took right before leaving. Damn his poor judgement.

Harry is still staring at him with this indecipherable look on his face as he waits for Louis’ reaction and Louis tries not to think too much about how maybe, just _maybe_ not being kicked out yet means that Harry might actually want to talk to him. That there might be a hint of hope in Harry’s eyes and that what he hopes for is for Louis to explain yourself and finally apologize properly so they could go back to what they were before. And you know, if Louis is lucky, maybe more. But no, the Nick situation first, right?

He’s not sure what he’s trying to do when he makes the first step towards Harry. Maybe he’s tired of standing in the doorway, or maybe it’s because he’s cold and Harry looks so damn warm and inviting, but he does. Or at least tries to, but he seems to have forgotten how to fucking _walk_. As it is, his foot must catch on the threshold and the next thing he knows, he’s falling into Harry’s arms as if he’s some sad excuse of a heroine in a bad romance novel. He’s not sure whether to be horrified or grateful for this sudden development. Mostly though, he’s feeling sick as those last shots start to fully hit him, _hard_.

Harry’s first instinct is to wrap his arms around Louis’ waist to help him steady himself. He freezes for a second before Louis hears him sigh deeply and feel him shake his head, his own still pressed into Harry’s shoulder.

“Okay then, hold tight.” Harry says, and before Louis has the time to fully understand what he’s being told, the floor under his feet disappears and suddenly, Harry is full-on carrying him, holding him by his thighs. Louis squeals and quickly wraps his arms around Harry’s neck to prevent himself from falling down.

“What are you doing?” he asks quietly, confused. 

Not wanting to have awkward eye contact with them being this close, he presses his face into Harry’s neck. And _oh_ , that was a bad idea. He’s immediately met with an amazing scent that he didn’t even know was missing. He inhales deeper and relishes in the faint, remaining smell of his cologne and something distinctively _Harry_. Louis must be pretty obvious at this point, sniffing Harry’s neck like this, but he ignores it and closes his eyes as he feels Harry close the door with his shoulder and start to move, the world around him getting more and more hazy and blurry.

“You smell so nice,” he mumbles into Harry’s warm neck before he can stop himself.

Harry’s voice is a little strained from his weight when he replies to Louis’ question. “You’re smashed, you should sleep it off.”

And well, if that doesn’t sound amazing. Louis tightens his hold on Harry’s neck and lets himself be carried away from the door, trying to leech off his body heat. After that, he starts zoning out and all he remembers is being put down on a soft, still warm bedding and whining when the arms around him try to let him go and move away. Then the same hands are putting a fresh smelling hoodie over him, helping him lay down, and covering him with a cozy duvet before moving away for good.

The last thing he hears is a soft whisper from the doorway.

“We can talk in the morning.”

There is a moment of dead silence where Louis can hear his own blood rushing in his head. He tries to open his eyes and look at the boy, but his eyes won’t cooperate and he’s just _so_ tired. He’s too out of it to try to protest when Harry finally leaves the room, shutting the door quietly after himself, so he just gives up and falls asleep, surrounded by Harry’s scent.

***

Louis hates the process of waking up. He’s always groggy and never feels like he’s slept enough to be considered well rested, lids still leaden with remnants of sleep. He usually doesn’t wake up until he absolutely has to by an alarm or one of the girls making a ruckus in the kitchen, but this time he wakes up on his own. Immediately, something doesn’t seem right. Maybe it’s the softness of the mattress that seems off, or the smell surrounding him, or the way the streaks of sunlight behind the blinds fall on his face from a different angle. He’s not in his room.

Slowly and reluctantly, Louis blinks his eyes open and groans when the light hits his eyes and makes a stinging pain explode behind his head. He quickly closes them and turns on his side, away from the offending source of light. He waits for a moment for the headache to fade and tries opening his eyes again. Yeah, Louis’ definitely not in his room. He looks around in an attempt to guess where the fuck is he and maybe remember how he got here, but nothing comes up.

The room, or at least the part that he’s able to see, looks pretty normal. Nothing that could help him decipher whose place he had stayed in last night. It’s tidy and clearly well-kept with no sight of scattered pieces of clothing on the floor like there usually are in Louis’ room. There are two sets of doors on the other side of the room. Louis prays that one of them leads to a ensuite so he can sort himself out and more importantly wash his teeth because it feels like something died in there last night. He will use his finger if he has to, dammit.

Louis lays there for a little while longer, trying to gather his strength to get up and face the mysterious, compassionate person that lent him their bed for the night. He figures that his eyes might be used to the light enough by now, so he turns on his back and looks at the rest of the room in hopes it will give him any hints to who it might be. The bed itself is placed in a corner by the window, the sill that runs alongside it covered with trinkets and a plethora of books. He’s about to inspect them when he notices the desk that sits at the foot of the bed, facing the wall. On the wall hangs a big cork board covered with fairly lights (of course) and a multitude of colorful photos.

 _BINGO_.

He finally gets up from the warm bed, instantly missing it’s comfort and walks to the board. Once he’s close enough to see the photos, it doesn’t take him long to realize whose place this is and he starts to panic because there is one person who keeps appearing in most of the photos stuck to the wall. _Harry._ Fuck. He came over last night, drunk off his ass, and has slept in Harry’s flat, in Harry’s _bed._ Fuck fuck FUCK.

_What did he tell him last night?_

As the faint memories of last night come crashing down on him, Louis can’t stop staring at the photos. There are a bunch of artsy ones that Harry must have taken sometime in his life. An old building here, beautiful sunset there, and lots of nature and animals. But there’s also a ton of photos that capture Harry’s life and friends—group photos and smiley selfies that make it hard for Louis to look away. He can’t help the smile that grows on his face, seeing all these people that make Harry so genuinely happy, a warm feeling settling in his chest.

It’s then that he notices something familiar. It’s another photo, right in the center of the collage, and when he recognizes where he knows it from, his knees almost buckle beneath him. It’s the photo from Lottie’s instagram, the one of Harry with his family, embracing each other and grinning at the camera. It’s visibly not the best quality, a little grainy and blurry, and Louis realizes that Harry must have saved it from the app and printed it out himself because he wanted it to hang on his wall where he shows off all his friends, where he can see it everyday. Louis’ heart sizes up in his chest, a warm feeling washing over him from head to toe.

Happily, and ready to move on, he quickly scans over the board one last time. That’s when he sees it. A photo of Harry and Nick with their arms around each other, smirking at the camera. Louis’ smile drops immediately and so does his heart along with it. Because now he remembers why he’s actually here in Harry’s room and the image of Nick kissing that guy at the pub flashes before his eyes.

Louis hates his drunk self so much. What was he thinking coming over here in the middle of the night? And _oh God, what did I say to him,_ he panics. All Louis remembers from last night is Harry opening the door and him mumbling something drunkenly, probably embarrassing himself even more.

He takes a few deep breaths and thinks about the situation he’s in and what to do now. For a second he considers sneaking out and running away before Harry has a chance to confront him, but _no_. He’s a fucking adult and he will act like one. He’s no longer going to run from his problems. He’s no wuss.

Before going out to face them though, he needs to make himself somewhat presentable, as he must be looking like a proper mess. Luckily, when Louis opens the first door in the room, it turns out to be the ensuite he was hoping for. He steps inside, looking around and his gaze lands on a folded towel with a blue toothbrush still in the package on top of it laying on the counter by the sink.

Of course Harry would be considerate enough to leave one for him even though he showed up uninvited. Louis bites his lip to stop himself from smiling. A couple months ago he would have rolled his eyes at this like he would at all of his other antics, but it seems like lately, what Louis once saw as annoying now makes Harry the most unique human being who makes Louis’ heart soar. He never thought he’d have such a reaction to a damn toothbrush and a towel.

_Damn you, Harry Styles. You lovely, hospitable bastard._

Not wanting to stall any longer, and feeling gross with all the stench from the night out on him, Louis takes a quick shower, washes his teeth with the brand new toothbrush, and does his best at controlling his wet hair. He immediately starts feeling better and couldn’t be more grateful for how accommodating Harry has been, though he hasn’t deserved it in the sightless.

When Louis walks out into the living room, anxiety making his hands damp with sweat, he wishes he had stayed in the bathroom just a little longer. Just so his hands could stop shaking.

The room is empty and the only sign that he’s not alone in the flat are the crumpled sheets on the sofa. Another wave of guilt washes over Louis when he realizes that Harry gave up sleeping in his own bed for him and had to fit on his two-seater couch. He bites his bottom lip when he thinks about Harry’s bad back and how sore he must be after a whole night of being curled up in such a small space.

That’s when he hears the quiet sound of ceramic clinking down the hall in what he assumes is the kitchen and he flinches, remembering his mission. Harry must know by now that he’s woken up and come out of the bedroom, but he’s deliberately not coming out to meet him. He clearly wants Louis to make this decision on his own. Luckily (or not) for him, Louis already has.

 _C’mon, Louis,_ he tells himself, takes a long breath and strides towards the kitchen. When he enters, his eyes immediately land on Harry who is leaning his back against the counter, body facing Louis with his arms folded over his chest and a slight frown on his face. He doesn’t look as angry as Louis was fearing, more guarded if anything. A little expectant, maybe.

Louis clears his throat. “Hi,” he lets out softly, all courage from couple seconds ago completely gone.

Harry’s only response is a subtle lift of his brows.

“Okay, yeah. I deserve that,” he chuckles deprecatingly and wraps his arm around his middle self-consciously. “Listen, I’m sorry about last night. I don’t know what I was thinking. I’m not sure where do even start—”

“How about you start with telling me about this boyfriend of mine?” Harry interrupts, still raising his eyebrows.

 _Boyfriend of mine_ , Louis thinks and tries to ignore the soft pang in his chest. _Right_. He doesn’t know why it still hurts him. Of course Harry would be interested the most in Nick right now, of the possibility of him being cheated on by his _boyfriend._ So he must have told him something yesterday before passing out.

“I don’t think it’s my place to tell you this,” he mutters, looking at the floor.

“You already told me last night though,” Harry starts. “Something about my boyfriend making out with someone else?”

 _Shit._ “Um, yeah.” He pauses. “I saw Nick last night at the pub. Not sure who the other guy was though,” he says, avoiding Harry’s gaze.

Harry sighs deeply, then lets out a small chuckle. “Okay, first of all, I have no idea where you got the notion that I am dating Nick.” Louis’ head snaps up to look at him, eyes wide. Harry keeps talking. “I don’t know why you thought I have a boyfriend at all.”

“You—” Louis is speechless. “What the fuck.”

“Louis,” Harry starts and looks deep into Louis’ eyes, sounding serious all of a sudden. His arms fall to his sides. “Why do you think me and Nick are dating?”

“I—” Louis seems to have lost the ability to form any logical thought. He thinks about that night when Nick opened Harry’s door and told him that _he’s_ _doing a great job at cheering him up_. “Fucking Nick!” he huffs more to himself than to Harry. Still, Harry’s brows furrow in confusion, so he tries to explain. “I came over to your place last month. The day I sent that text?” He looks to Harry for confirmation and continues when he receives a nod in return. “I wanted to apologize, okay? I was a huge dick and then I realized that I—” he cuts himself off. “Well, Nick opened the door and basically told me you don’t want to see me and might have insinuated that you’re—together, I guess.” He shrugs and keeps his gaze on the tiles beneath his feet.

There’s a tense silence surrounding them where neither of them know what to do next.

“Why would he do that?” is all Harry says after a while.

“I don’t know!” Louis cries and meets Harry’s eyes. “Maybe because he’s a fucking asshole that’s been in love with you since he met you!”

Harry frowns. “I already told him ages ago we couldn’t be anything more than friends. He was okay with that,” he points out.

“Well, obviously, he’s not,” Louis quips back, folding his hands in front of him again. He can’t help the pout that he’s sure he’s sporting. The silence falls upon them once again, so he takes a look around the kitchen, trying to ignore his racing heart and the tiny voice in his head that awfully sounds like hope. “So, this is not awkward at all.” He hums and sways back and forth on his heels.

Harry snorts, turning his eyes away from Louis for the first time since he entered the room. “Right. Well, I made you breakfast,” he swipes his hand in the direction of the corner of the room behind Louis. Sure enough, when he follows the motion of Harry’s hand, there’s a plate with a stack of pancakes and a glass of orange juice sitting on a small table by the wall. Smile on his face, Louis’ about to thank him, when Harry mutters, “Feel free to eat, but I think it’s better if you go home when you’re done.”

And yeah, okay. He forgot that this doesn’t fix anything between them. Not really. So ignoring the pang in his chest, Louis swallows and turns back around towards Harry who doesn’t meet his eyes.

“Harry…” he begs and takes a risk by stepping closer to him. “I am so sorry about that night. That was such a dick move. I don’t have an excuse, it’s all on me. I was confused and was only thinking about myself.” He pauses and waits for any kind of reaction that doesn’t seem to be coming. “Please.” Louis can’t stand Harry not looking at him. “The past few months have been fucking awful. I— _I miss you_.” He pleads, putting an arm around himself, feeling vulnerable.

At that, Harry finally meets his eyes with an uncertain, but slightly hopeful look on his face. It pushes Louis to keep talking.

“I’ve had a lot of time to think and I realized that I—well, I realized a lot. And it’s helped me to get my shit together and apologize properly, try to fix this. Fix us.” He struggles to keep their eye contact. “But I understand if you can’t really forgive me. I will never bother you again,” Louis finishes and hopes Harry didn’t notice the slight crack in his voice. He snorts self depreciatingly and finally looks the other way. “God, wasn’t that dramatic.”

Harry doesn’t laugh though. Instead, Louis can see him from the corner of his eye slowly walking over and stilling in front of him, as if waiting for Louis to look at him. Stubbornly, Louis keeps his gaze set on the kitchen counter, trying to avoid looking into Harry’s eyes now that he’s made himself so vulnerable.

It’s when he feels a gentle hand touch his cheek, fingers gently trembling with nerves against his skin, that he drops the act and quickly meets Harry’s gaze. Harry is smiling softly at him and it gives him a whiplash..

“What did you realize?” Harry asks, voice soft, but sure with his intent to get to the truth.

Louis’ can hear his blood rushing, feels it go to his cheeks that must look like a pair of tomatoes by now. He swallows hard, realizing how parched he is and shakes his head frantically. Harry’s still hasn’t taken his hand away.

“Louis, what did you realize?” He repeats more firmly, this time with a cheeky tone to it. Like he’s sure he _knows_ the answer already. He moves even closer to Louis, his breath hitting Louis’ face. “Louis,” he drawls out, fucking _pleading_ Louis to say the truth.

“That I’m in love with you,” he finally admits, the words falling out of his mouth quickly and without his permission. Still, with his heart about to pop out of his chest, he adds, “That I’ve been in love you for a _while_.”

Harry beams at him, his smile taking over half of his face while Louis just waits, afraid to get his hopes up. He watches as Harry laughs and shakes his head in disbelief, the sound clear and soft, filling Louis with a strange sense of warmth. Before he knows it, a second hand is suddenly grabbing his other cheek pulling him in, a pair of warm lips touching his, and _Harry is kissing him._

The air seems to escape Louis all at once as he gasps, surprised. Harry uses the moment to deepen the kiss by slipping his tongue inside his mouth, and even though Louis’ head is still whirring, he doesn’t hesitate to vigorously kiss Harry back, letting out a soft moan in the back of his throat. Harry echoes the sound and deepens the kiss even more, pressing closer, pushing Louis backwards until his back hits the wall, still conscious enough to cradle Louis’ head to protect it from the impact.

Louis wraps his arms around Harry’s back, clutching onto him tightly, and feels Harry slip his thigh between his legs, pushing him even further into the wall. It feels like they’re trying to eliminate any distance between them to make up for all the time spent without each other’s warmth.

Louis knows this is happening way too quickly. They have still so much to talk about. He just told him he _loves the guy_ and Harry hasn’t even said anything back yet. He doesn’t know if he feels the same and the thought paralyzes Louis for a short second before he’s distracted by Harry’s mouth once again. Harry just kisses so wonderfully, exactly how Louis loves to be kissed. Passionate and rough, but still with a hint of sweetness to it, enough to make Louis’ head spin. With one of Harry’s hands having slipped down to grab his hip, and the other one still cupping Louis’ cheek, it makes him feel so cared for, so safe. He wishes he could kiss Harry forever.

Still, he forces himself to pull his mouth away, gently pushing Harry back when he chases his mouth. “Wait, we should talk about it,” he says, breathless.

Harry has since then moved on to pressing random little kisses all over Louis’ face. It takes a moment for him to realize what Louis just said and he sighs when he does, resting his forehead on Louis’. “Yeah?” his voice barely a whisper.

“Uh—yeah,” Louis stutters, distracted by Harry placing a chaste kiss under his jaw. “It would be great to know your thoughts on all of this,” he points out distractedly.

“What are my thoughts on this?” Harry repeats, a clear note of amusement in his tone and presses another kiss below his ear. Louis can only nod in response. “What I think is that it’s about damn time. _God,_ Louis. You have no idea what you’re doing to me,” he says and bites his bottom lip and even though he’s still apprehensive about Harry’s feelings towards him, Louis can’t ignore the way his dick twitches in his pants at the sight of him, all flushed and gorgeous, if not a little bit sheepish. All because of Louis.

“What?”

Harry chuckles. “I’ve been gone for you since the beginning. Ever since I made a fool of myself in front of you at that party. And I’ve been waiting—well, _hoping_ —for you to realize you feel the same.” He pauses. “So, you know, it did hurt a lot that night.” Louis lowers his eyes in shame, but Harry lifts his head with the hand that’s still on his cheek. “Nick was helping me get over it.” He’s quick to explain when he sees Louis eyes grow big, alarmed. “But it never got anywhere past movie nights and occasional cuddling. You know first hand how much I love cuddling,” he says with a warm smile.

“Let’s not talk about Grimshaw anymore, please,” Louis says embarrassed. “I’m just so sorry for being a dick.”

Harry’s smile turns into a smirk. “How can I be mad at you when you look so fucking adorable right now?”

“Oi, Styles! Who are you calling adorable?” Louis protests, a playful twinkle in his eyes. Harry gives a small laugh and goes in for another kiss, successfully distracting him. After a couple of moments, he interrupts Harry once again, making the other boy groan. “Just so we’re clear, we’re both on the same page, yeah?”

“Oh, God,” he says impatiently, but there’s a fond smile on his lips. “Did you not hear what I just said? I love you, you fool.”

Louis feels like he’s dreaming, heart stuck in his throat like a dam clogging up all the words that he should be saying right now. He doesn’t need to though, because Harry is leaning in closer again and tenderly nudges Louis’ nose with his own.

“You good?” he asks, and the question is so loaded that all Louis can do is simply nod his head before Harry is placing a chaste peck on the corner of his mouth.

 _This is really happening_ , Louis has to keep reminding himself as their kisses get progressively more and more deep and intense, Harry’s knee moving back between Louis’ legs. Louis’ cock responds immediately, filling up right under Harry’s thigh which only makes the other boy press in more firmly. Hot pressure in his tummy spreads to his whole body, overwhelming him. He shivers when Harry briefly places his hands on his hips to take off his shirt, followed by his own. When their lips reattach, Louis reaches up and grabs a fistful of curly hair and pulls, making Harry moan loudly into his mouth, spurring Louis on even more.

“Bedroom?” he asks against Harry’s mouth, voice quiet, but confident. 

Harry only nods and grabs Louis under his thighs and surprises him by lifting him up. The smaller boy squeals and instinctively wraps his legs around Harry’s hips. Harry leads them back to the bedroom, laying occasional sweet kisses on Louis face. Once they make their way inside, he lays Louis down on the bed and follows after him, caging him in with his body.

“You sure about this?” he asks.

He looks so gorgeous, it takes a while for Louis to catch up with what he’s saying. His lips are swollen and shiny from kissing Louis, hair all over the place from his fingers and honestly, Louis couldn’t be more proud of himself.

“Yeah,” Louis finally breathes out, pushing his hips up against Harry’s to really let him know how much he’s into this.

Harry dives in, connecting their lips once again, reacquainting himself with Louis’ taste. He grinds his hips down, eliciting a drawn out moan from the boy under him. Supporting his weight with one hand, he moves his other towards Louis’ covered cock and palms against it through the material of his jeans, making Louis moan again.

“You sound so good, baby,” Harry praises him with a final kiss, then moves away on his knees so he’s level with Louis’ crotch. He settles his hands on Louis’ fly, looking up to him for any sign of discomfort before unfastening his jeans and pulling them down his thighs along with his pants. Louis’ cock springs free and Harry can’t stop staring at the expanse of soft, tanned skin he just revealed. Then he looks back up, staring intensely at Louis’ face. “Keep your hands on the bedpost, yeah?”

“Harry,” he eggs him on with an impatient huff, but obeys, moving his hands above him and grabbing at the cold metal bars above the bed.

"Don’t worry, I got you, baby.” Harry reassures him with a soft hum before leaning in and taking him into his mouth. He starts with just the head, lapping at the tip with his tongue and making Louis’ hips twitch. Harry looks up at him with a disgruntled look and places his hands firmly on Louis’ hips. He doesn’t stop, doesn’t slow down at all. Instead, he takes all of Louis’ cock into his mouth, humming around it. After a while, he pulls back a little to suck and tongue at the head, only to take him down all the way again, making Louis go crazy with need. Harry repeats the process a few times before moving even faster, bobbing his head up and down Louis’ length, all while keeping him still with his hands on his hips. Louis wants to move so badly.

Louis’ briefly wonders if he should be embarrassed by how quickly he becomes such a needy mess and already so close to coming, but then he sees Harry looking at him as if he hung the stars from beneath his lashes when he briefly pulls away, so he can’t really bring himself to care.

The thing is, he’s sensitive. He could blame it on not having slept with anyone in a while, but he’s ready to admit that the reason Louis is currently losing all his cool is that _it’s_ _Harry_. Harry, who has always been so good to Louis even if he was being a right brat in return. Harry, who can charm the pants off of anyone he wants, but still always chooses to give Louis’ most of his attention. Harry, who has photos of Louis’ on his wall because he’s _important to him._

Louis’ hasn’t had meaningful sex in a while. Probably never, actually. It’s hard for Louis to admit, but the last few years have been full of admittedly satisfying, but also undoubtedly empty, insignificant hook-ups. But being here now, with Harry’s soft and gentle touches, it’s just so much _more_ and Louis has to blink away the tears that spring in his eyes out of sheer overwhelmedness. Thankfully, he’s quickly distracted by Harry suddenly pressing his tongue firmly against the gathering of nerves on the underside of his cockhead, making Louis’ whole body tremble.

 _Yeah, Louis, way to go and have an emotional crisis while a guy is sucking you off,_ he thinks to himself once he manages to contain himself. He’s going to come if Harry keeps this up.

“Harry,” he whines out a warning, “I need—” he cuts himself off, hoping Harry will get what he means.

Harry, of course, understands exactly just what Louis needs and squeezes Louis’ hips comfortingly without pulling away from his cock. He then trails his hand back, grabbing at the sides of Louis’ ass before moving even lower, and suddenly there’s a curious finger dipping in between his cheeks. Biting his bottom lip at the sensation, Louis carefully spreads his legs a little further apart, allowing Harry’s finger to stroke lightly over his hole. His hands and those damn long fingers are so ridiculously warm, and Louis immediately imagines what they will feel like inside, what _Harry’s_ _cock_ will feel like, lighting him up like his own personal sun. And he can’t fucking wait.

“Lube, oh my god, Harry, _c’mon,_ ” he pleads and pulls him up lightly by his hair. Harry goes almost willingly, staying down just long enough to press a sweet kiss to the tip of Louis’ cock as if he’s fucking saying goodbye, then pulls away. Harry looks like sin, lips wet and plump red, cheeks flushed and hair in disarray from Louis’ fingers. He’s giving Louis this fond, but intense look, swallowing his body with it like he can’t quite believe he has Louis under him like this, and for a moment Louis forgets everything but those eyes staring at him like this and he flushes even harder than he already has been.

Then he smirks. “Hands on the bedpost, Lou.” He waits for Louis to obey, then leans in to give Louis a brief kiss before whispering “ _Good boy”_ into his ear as he leans over him to reach the nightstand. Louis almost comes right there.

Harry is quick to find what he needs and comes back to Louis, settling between his legs on his knees. Harry sets the bottle and the condom on the bed while he struggles to get out of his joggers, making Louis giggle at the sight, then bite his lip when Harry sends him a playful glare. Harry takes off his boxers, cock bobbing up from under the elastic and Louis’ smile freezes on his lips as he takes him all in.

“Fuck, Harry, come here,” he whispers, unable to wait to get his hands on Harry.

Harry doesn’t hesitate before leaning in to attach his lips to Louis’ in a sweet, passionate kiss that quickly turns dirty once Louis takes him into his hand and tugs gently. He relishes in the feeling of him, hot and heavy in his palm, already wet at the head. When he swipes his thumb along the side using his precome to ease the drag, Harry moans wetly into his open mouth.

“C’mon, I need you inside,” Louis keens, not even caring that he’s being way too needy.

Harry nods and with his mouth still pressed to Louis’, breathes out a small, “ _Fuck_.”

He gives him a long, rough kiss before leaning back on his knees and grabbing the lube. Louis immediately misses the warmth of his body, but is easily distracted when he sees Harry pour the lube on his unfairly long fingers.

The first touch of a cold, wet finger against his hole is somehow always a surprise, causing him to tense up, but with a sweet kiss that Harry presses to the inside of Louis’ ankle, he quickly relaxes again. After that, Harry doesn’t waste any more time, being quick, but thorough and soon enough, with two of Harry’s fingers inside of him, Louis is a whining mess, gripping the bedposts tightly, seconds away from fucking _begging_ for Harry’s cock.

Harry must be a psychic, because it’s like he knows just what Louis needs. He pulls his fingers out and Louis _does not_ whimper at the sudden emptiness he feels. He stares as Harry grabs the condom, fumbles with it for a moment because of his slick-with-lube fingers, then he’s rolling it on and lubing himself up. He pauses then, looking at Louis with such an overwhelming look of adoration that Louis flushes even harder.

Harry leans over him once again, supports himself on one elbow by Louis’ head, and grips his cock in his right hand. He kisses him as he finally starts to push in and Louis feels his brain freeze, the feeling of Harry’s soft lips on his and the stretch slow and satisfying. He nearly sobs at the feeling of Harry bottoming out, their bodies connecting in all possible ways. Harry takes his now free hand to intertwine his fingers with Louis’, holding on tightly.

“Feels so good, baby,” Harry sighs against his lips, voice a little strained from having to keep his hips still, waiting for Louis to adjust. “God, I’ve thought about this so many times,” he admits. “Dreamed about making you feel good and holding you close, about being able to kiss you anytime I want.” He pauses to peck Louis’ lips as if to demonstrate. “About giving you anything you want.”

Louis can’t even reply, the feeling of being treasured and cared for once again overwhelming him and clogging up his throat, so he chooses to press a warm kiss to Harry’s lips, hoping it’s enough for now and that Harry _understands_.

It must be enough because Harry reciprocates the kiss and starts moving his hips slowly, dragging it out. Letting both of them get used to the feeling, giving them time to truly drink it all in. And Louis knows that this has been a long time coming, but not even in his deepest fantasies could he have imagined it like this. With Harry so caring and attentive to Louis’ needs and feelings. He couldn’t have imagined it would feel so fucking good. He wants it to last forever, but also having waited so long makes him restless and he knows he’s going to come soon.

“Harry,” he moans.

“Fuck. I know, Lou. I know,” he whispers and starts speeding up, thrusting into Louis rhythmically, grunting against his open mouth. He then changes angles a little and Louis cries out in shock as he starts hitting his prostate dead on, the pleasure spreading through his entire body.

Encouraged by Louis’ reaction, Harry starts moving even faster and takes Louis’ cock into his palm and starts moving it up and down, both chasing their orgasms.

“You’re doing so good, baby.”

It’s like Harry can’t stop talking, spilling constant praise from the tip of his tongue. Louis can’t say he minds, really, when the pressure of Harry’s cock inside of him, the warm hand on him, and soft words being muttered agaist his lips makes him come over his tummy only moments later.

Harry kisses him through it, slowing down the movement of his hips. “You can keep going,” Louis encourages him, eager for Harry to come.

Harry doesn’t hesitate, speeding up again and not long after, Harry starts losing his rhythm, hips stuttering and the gasps coming from his mouth getting more labored and deep and Louis knows he’s close. He wants to say something to help him get there faster, the feeling of him still inside on the verge of being uncomfortable, but the only thing that comes out of his lips is a soft whisper into his ear. “I love you.”

It’s the right thing to say as Harry comes on the spot, a long and deep moan splitting from his mouth. He rides the waves of his orgasm for a couple more thrusts before stilling and carefully slipping out of Louis, conscious of Louis’ discomfort. He sags down onto the bed, barely avoiding crushing Louis in the process. They both lay still for a while, trying to get their heartbeats and breathing under control. It’s Harry who moves first, getting up and taking the condom off, tying it up before going to the bathroom to throw it out. He returns with a wet towel and gently cleans Louis up with it before tossing it over his shoulder and throwing himself on the bed again.

He immediately cuddles up to Louis’ side, placing his head on his chest and pulling him in tighter with a hand on his hip. Louis buries a hand into Harry’s hair and sighs, content.

“So this turned out much better than I anticipated.”

Harry huffs, the sudden whiff against his torso giving Louis goosebumps. “I can imagine. I can’t believe you thought I was dating Nick.”

“I can’t believe you made me breakfast after I came over here drunk off my face in the middle of the night,” Louis retorts with a smile.

“Well, I’ve been known to be kind of hopeless when it comes to you.” Louis can feel Harry’s smile grow against his chest. And along with it, so does Louis’ heart.

“You did try to kick me out of your flat right after though.” He chuckles.

“Kind of deserved it, didn’t you?”

Louis freezes at that, the hand in Harry’s hair stilling. _Maybe Harry wasn’t planning on forgiving him in the end, maybe he was lying the whole time._ He panics, the thought chilling him to the bone. Before he can say anything, the other boy lifts his head quickly to catch Louis’ eyes.

“Shit, no, Lou. I didn’t mean it like that. I’m good, yeah? We’re good,” he rushes to console him.

Louis exhales with relief, the thought of this being just a one-off thing scaring him more that he would like to admit. “I did deserve it though. Again, Harry, I’m so sorry. I will make it up to you somehow, I promise." 

“Shhh… there’s no need to, okay?” He bites his lip then, thinking about what to say next. “Just be mine, yeah?” he says, almost shyly.

Louis’ face must be glowing right now with how fucking happy he is, smile overtaking half of his face. “Yes. God, Harry, yes!” He laughs before rolling them over to lay himself on Harry’s front and connecting their mouths in a messy kiss, teeth clunking against each other. They don’t care at all, they just keep kissing and smiling brightly at each other when they come up for air. And Louis’ honestly can’t believe his luck when he can finally say against Harry’s lips, “I’m yours.”

**Author's Note:**

> [my tumblr](http://kiwilouis.tumblr.com/)   
>  [fic post](http://kiwilouis.tumblr.com/post/176663290570/runnin-like-you-did-20k-by-olaveya-should-we)


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